Mid-August...seems about the right time to redouble my bitching regarding the heat, humidity, and general sticky-icky-ness that is becoming more insufferable every day (I know, I know...I'm a grouch...and I'll be regretting my words during those long, cold, winter nights...but...right now...with the thermometer in the 90's...I'm feeling snarky). Today's bout of Scrooge-ish bah-humbug-ness came about after catching sight of what I can only refer to as "hot 70's librarian boots" from Stella McCartney...

At the beginning of every summer...in that epicenter of the storm...my "mind's eye"...I imagine a season of outfits in which I will be crisp and cool...calm in the heat and humidity. The fact that, as each summer draws to a close, I feel bedraggled...sweaty...and longing for the comforting cocoon of sweater and coat...does not lessen my madness.

Especially when I come across pictures such as this...Camille Bidault Waddington...at her summer home in France. Relaxed, yet polished. The seemingly "effortless" outfit that is so blindingly difficult to attain.

How long will it take for me to realize that I am the living embodiment of "never say never"?  Probably a lifetime...who knows, I may even be buried claiming that "I always wanted a coffin but, what the hell, go ahead and cremate me". For, fresh on the heels of questioning why anyone would fork over their cash...months in advance of the anticipated delivery date...and with a less-than-customer-friendly return policy...on something from Moda Operandi's website...I found myself handing over my credit card information for a sweater (egads...a sweater?...right at the beginning of summer...and in full knowledge of the mountain of woolens already gaining dangerous heights in my closet). Not just any sweater, it's true...a distressed Fair Isle from Edun's Fall/Winter collection...classic...yet destroyed...always a dangerously alluring combination in my eyes. Now I just have to wait until August to get my sticky little hands on it...

I sometimes feel that I'm more interested in the details of an outfit than the outfit itself...or perhaps that's just my way of justifying my interest in bags, bracelets, and all other forms of personal ephemera...

Sunday...denim day...in forms other than jeans...

Inspiration...to last all summer long...from Barneys New York Collection lookbook...

Not my car...nor the car of anyone that I know (I realize that I sound very much like a stereotypical foreign language tape right at this second..."here is the feather of my aunt"..."voici la plume de ma tante")...but I'm rather loving the idea of Vuitton (or, in all likelihood, faux-Vuitton) car seats...

I highly recommend reading Carol Edgarian's article on the origins of chic in its entirety...as it's the sort of thoughtful discourse on personal style that seems to be a rarity nowadays. As an amuse-bouche...and an incentive to click through and read more...I'm including the paragraph that most struck a chord with me below.

"Style is how you see the world and how the world sees you. It isn’t today and it isn’t tomorrow; it isn’t a dress or a car or a shoe or a comment — it’s the cut of your sail as you cross this crazy, uncharted sea. Far ahead, legions of boats have already made the crossing—some grander, some more sleek—and still newer boats are always coming up behind you. Style is the manner in which you navigate your one remarkable voyage."

At the beginning of each episode of the 1960's psychological spy show, The Prisoner, Number Six (played by Patrick McGoohan) would be asked for "in-formation". Which really has nothing to do with the rest of this post...except that when I first saw Sofia Coppola's outfit for the after-party of a film screening in NY my first thought was "in-spiration". Understated...with a touch of luxurious "evening" (the 3 C's...collar, cuffs, and clutch)...more comfortable, and personal than many of the other party-goers...

Before I delve deeper into the conclusion of my own, personal, Snark hunt allow me to add the snippet of information that I usually steer well clear of whites and off-whites (be they of the winter or summer variety). Not that I dislike them in theory...I just rest safe in the knowledge that I am a klutz, a buffoon, a stain magnet par excellence who will mar their pristine beauty in the space of about 5 minutes.

Which is why basic number two was such a shocker (and not purely from a pricing perspective)...for it is white...crisp white...pure white...”Don’t ask me if I want to eat or drink anything more exciting than a glass of stain-free water while I am wearing this” white. A blend of silk and linen that must make dry cleaners rub their hands with glee just thinking about it.


At this point...when you are surely about to ask why in hell I made such an insane purchase...let me add that, in addition to all this white-ness, it is simply...achingly...beautiful. Beautiful in the graphic way that Diana Rigg's were when she played Emma Peel in the 1960's show, The Avengers. Beautiful in the way that only a jacket which is structured yet casual can be (down to the perfectly rolled collar and wind-breaker-esque zipper and tie). Beautiful in the way that almost anything trimmed with navy lambskin would be.


And...despite my earlier comments...and with the certain knowledge that I am going to do something idiotic (sooner rather than later)...once the threat of snow finally disappears...I plan on wearing this jacket. Everywhere.

It seems like there’s always a lot of talk about “the basics”. Summer...winter...a year round conversation on the standard capsule piece that goes with everything and makes you feel good whenever you put it on. Unfortunately, finding the aforementioned basics generally takes on the same, elusive quality as the hunting of the snark (an "impossible voyage of an improbable crew to find an inconceivable creature"). For me, it’s a quest that I find especially difficult in summer...when finding something that I love (and could vaguely be called flattering) yet which doesn’t cause heatstroke can, on occasion, seem impossible.

Which is why I was utterly flabbergasted...and lulled into performing a rather dangerous introduction of plastic to swipe machine...when I found not one, but two, perfect summer basics at Barneys. I know, I know...cries of “Is this really a shocker?”...but there are, let’s face it, a myriad of designer clothes...officially created for summer...that are neither weather nor wearer friendly...and Barneys own label does put out simple, yet luxe, clothing (and accessories) that well-designed, well made, and satisfyingly seasonless (I’ll admit that it’s lovely to have the latest thing...but it’s also nice to know that, come summer, you have an old friend that you can rely on).

And so, to basic number one...a take on the djellaba...made in Italy from crisp, navy cotton. Loose, but not shapeless...basic, yet interesting...as serviceable for work as it is for wandering the streets of a foreign city on vacation. The sort of thing that makes you actively look forward to summer...

It has to be said that...in the general run of things...Amish-schoolgirl-at-a-sleepover-while-on-vacation-in-Paris is not a look I aim for...but then I found myself browsing around my local American Apparel...and being suddenly confronted by the double whammy of a below-the-knee skirt in pajama flannel plaid...and a boat-necked tee in red and blue stripes. Individually I may have been able to withstand their lure...together, it was like a thunderbolt from heaven. Maybe Amish en vacances is my metier after all...

After a sea of fall collections that failed to thrill, I'll take anything (and everything) from Carven. Disclaimer: the preceding sentence assumes a virtually limitless budget...oh, and finding the right place to wear a mustard yellow, fox-meets-yeti-sleeved, coat.

Given the abundance of such groups I have to imagine that some sort of self-help community exists for those who cannot resist the seductive charms of the striped top...if not, I need to start one. The latest incarnation that I happened across...the studded striped sweater...initiated one of those Homer Simpson-esque "d'uh" moments...as in "stripes, studs, relatively easy to DIY...why have I not spent a weekend studding my little heart out?"

The thing is...once I track down the right sweater...and order ye olde jumbo bag of studs...that's just what I'm going to do...

If you look under the letter S in Sir Hardy Amies' classic tome "ABC of Men's Fashion" you will find (somewhat unsurprisingly I admit) the heading "Shirt". Dig a little deeper and you'll uncover the information that said shirt "is the most important garment in a man's complete costume after the suit. The rough surface of the wool of the suit relies on the smooth cool fabric of the shirt to provide a contrast...such contrasts of texture play an important part in the achievement of a pleasing appearance."

A thought that could apply equally well to this little item from Carven...the striped cotton poplin has the quiet sobriety of a classic men's shirt...whilst the twisting and draping carries a slight suggestion of rumpled bed linen and afternoon dalliance (in a sweet, Audrey Hepburn, Love in the Afternoon kind of way)...woolen suit jacket, optional.

The lure was a weekend of tax-free shopping in a state whose taxes make you blink...shudder...and long for a stiff drink before contemplating any major purchases.

The unexpected interest was provided by a floor-length khaki skirt...exuding casual elegance from the window of Michael Kors. A skirt that I fondly imagined wearing whilst bumming around in the summer...or for work (on days when it wasn't raining and I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning the streets every time I took a step).

The letdown arrived at the moment the sales assistant informed me that the skirt retailed for $2,300.

I am now...somewhat optimistically...searching for something equally dressy-casual...that doesn't accessorize with the threat of penury.

I'm going to warn you now...before you click through and start to hyperventilate at the price tag...that this particular denim dress is one of those deceptively simple little suckers that manage both casual and "hey look ma, I made an effort" extremely well...at, as I say, a price (not quite of the "far above rubies" category, it's true, but still enough to make you wince). Which raises the eternal question...why is simple rarely easy?

Some people, apparently effortlessly, manage to look polished and ladylike on almost every occasion. They’re the ones that would make a garbage bag look good…or its sartorial equivalent, the bridesmaid dress. Others, myself included, rarely manage polished…and, on the rare occasion that the stars align, are guaranteed to be the victim of a random gust of wind (or snagged pair of stockings) that will make them look like they’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards within about 5 seconds of leaving the house.

With this in mind, my personal preference is to go the jolie laide route by choice. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade…when life is going to make you a little tousled and rumpled, go for the disheveled look on purpose. Which is why, when faced with the prim perfection of yesterday’s pleated jersey skirt my automatic response is to reach for a pair of DKNY distressed tights.